


Day 23: Bleeding Out

by Aelaer



Series: Whumptober 2019 [23]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bucky Barnes, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt Stephen Strange, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Shock, Stephen Strange Bingo 2019, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 22:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelaer/pseuds/Aelaer
Summary: The smoke rising from the destruction several blocks west painted the orange sunset a blood red, which was oddly appropriate for an ending of a day that went like this.Stephen wasn't entirely sure why normal people bothered to live in New York City anymore with its alarmingly frequent encounters with something destructive. Then again, it seemed most cities in the twenty-first century drew plenty of abnormal and outright dangerous beings. Yet somehow, property was still insanely expensive in said cities. It really made a person wonder about the human condition.The doctor in him realized that his wandering thoughts were not conducive to staying alive.
Series: Whumptober 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510820
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Stephen Strange Bingo 2019





	Day 23: Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

> NGL, whenever I see these two words together these days, the Imagine Dragons song of the same name starts blaring in my head.
> 
> I haven't ever written Bucky outside of a group scenario and never really interacting with Stephen, so he was the Random Avenger (I'm counting him as an Avenger) that I decided to cameo for this. Alongside, naturally, Sam. Oh man I can't wait for that show, if it's not a buddy-cop action/comedy I'll be so disappointed.
> 
> Oh also this fills "Sunset" for my Stephen Strange bingo and that's another bingo, y'all.

The smoke rising from the destruction several blocks west painted the orange sunset a blood red, which was oddly appropriate for an ending of a day that went like this.

Stephen wasn't entirely sure why normal people bothered to live in New York City anymore with its alarmingly frequent encounters with something destructive. Then again, it seemed most cities in the twenty-first century drew plenty of abnormal and outright dangerous beings. Yet somehow, property was still insanely expensive in said cities. It really made a person wonder about the human condition.

The doctor in him realized that his wandering thoughts were not conducive to staying alive. He forced himself to concentrate on the now.

The obvious part of the now was the sharp pain in his side and the fact that he was definitely, slowly but surely, suffering from exsanguination. He wasn't sure if it was one of the attacking aliens or a piece of debris that caused the bloody wound on his side, but whatever the case, he needed some emergency care within the next ten minutes or he would more than likely be dead.

It was rather a shame that he was pinned by the wreckage of a collapsed building and that he had no magic left to do… well, anything. No healing, no mentally reaching out for help, and he didn't even have the power to push out his astral form. In hindsight, using every last ounce of his magic probably wasn't the best idea.

At least he had a partial view of the sunset sky. That was something. He'd reach for it, but his leg was under something. Mercifully he had lost all feeling for the leg, which could be remedied if he was rescued in the next few minutes, or wouldn't matter within the next half hour. Either way worked for him; being alive was so tiring, sometimes. Like right now; right now it was absolutely exhausting.

An alarm flared in the back of his brain, but he couldn't remember what was so important about what he was feeling.

Speaking of feeling, Stephen still felt the Cloak's limited wiggling as it struggled to get out. Poor Cloak. It would be rescued eventually, though by the time it was, it was perhaps too late for him, having bled out and all.

Ah, yes. That's what the alarm was for. He was bleeding out and his body was beginning to shut down. It was a shame he couldn't move his arm to staunch the wound. Maybe he could try and use magic… oh, no, he was all out. He remembered now.

At least he could watch the blood red sky. It was a nice color, though a bit foreboding.

… not the worst thing to see… nice sunset…

….

He opened his eyes at the new noises. He didn't remember closing them. Noise, what was that noise? It wasn't distant sirens, or something falling, or something else being blown up. It wasn't incomprehensive shouts from ally, enemy, or civilian. But it sounded like… it was more like the latter, more like people. It sounded like speech.

Words began to drift through the wreckage and to Stephen's groggy mind, though they were partially incomprehensible.

"...awning or something…"

"...like that? … my mom used to…"

A moment later, his right hand felt a bit colder and the noise became louder and much clearer.

"Oh my God."

Someone placed a hand on his wrist, for… for something. There was something he knew about the wrist that he was… something important.

"Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, but it's thready." Then he heard, "We need medics on 30th and 9th; Doctor Strange is down. Alive, condition otherwise unknown." Then, in the next breath, "We need to uncover him fast, but carefully. Push that beam downward to the right, then that slab of concrete—"

He lost the conversation as things shuffled around him, but a quick moment later his view of the sunset engulfed his blurry vision, only to be immediately replaced by two men that _he knew_ he knew but details like names were difficult at the moment.

"Strange! Stay with us, Strange," said the one that was directing things. Stephen squinted at him in confusion, and maybe he understood his confusion because he continued, "It's Sam, Stephen. Bucky is working on getting you out, but I need you to tell me where you're injured."

Injured, injured… oh, yes. Bleeding. "Left side," he rasped. "Blood." What was the word… he knew these words. He knew these words well. "Hyp… Hypo…" Hypo-something.

"Hypovolemic shock?"

Yes, that was it. Stephen gave the barest of nods and let his eyes shut. He was so damn tired.

He felt a light tap on his face and he blinked, looking up at Sam. "You need to stay awake just a little longer. Barnes, get his left side free when you can."

"I heard the Doc!" Bucky shouted back as he worked on removing the debris. "I— whoa!"

Stephen's brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly he felt a heavy pressure at his side that caused him to wince in pain.

"I think his cloak's buying us a couple extra minutes," Sam said at his head.

"Good, because I can't move the debris around his chest until I get most of the crap off his legs; it might collapse otherwise."

The painful pressure on his side— from the Cloak, sounded like— did more to keep him awake and help unmuddle some of his thoughts, and he did his best to peer at his surroundings. From his vantage point, he saw that they had removed the debris in front of him and around his right arm. It looked like the rest of his right side was still mostly blocked off. He couldn't see the bottom half of his body the way he was laying on his stomach.

Stephen groaned as the Cloak pressed a little harder against his side.

Sam laid a hand on his right shoulder. "Just hang on for a few more minutes. The guy with the metal arm is mostly useless, but he's good at lifting heavy stuff."

"You just wish you were as great as me," Bucky grunted as the sound of more shifting debris punctuated his claim.

Stephen huffed a laugh, then winced at the pain it brought. "Don't— don't make me laugh."

"I'll try, but no promises," Sam said with a half smile and a soft pat on his shoulder.

"Is… is everyone okay?" he asked.

"A few injuries, but I think you get the gold medal for the worst injuries this round," Sam answered. "You're lucky Bucky saw the corner of your cloak struggling to pull itself out. It was only sticking out a few inches."

A grunt, some more heavy shifting, and an answer came from beyond Stephen's viewpoint. "I told you it was embroidery and not some tacky awning."

"Hey, I didn't call it tacky— don't go insinuating that I'm insulting the magical outerwear. We have a good relationship, both being flying… things."

"_Things_, huh?"

The conversation was of some help to distract Stephen from the pain, though every time his eyes fluttered shut for more than a few seconds, Sam would tap him awake. As the sound of distant sirens began to grow closer, he heard, "I think this will do it," and suddenly he felt a searing pain in his now-free leg, and within thirty seconds the rest of his body was uncovered.

"The ambulance is coming up right behind you," he heard Bucky say as the pain began to overwhelm him. "Just hold on a little longer."

He tried to listen to him, but as the blare of sirens whitewashed all other sounds, and then something touched him, touched his leg, his body gave up on him and consciousness fled.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, he lives.
> 
> Sam ended up just taking the wheel from Bucky, cuz I guess he's still annoyed about what happened in TWS… I don't control the characters, they do their own thing.
> 
> I know one of the symptoms of severe hypovolemic shock is confusion, though I am not sure if that confusion includes forgetting simple things like people's names as well as knowledge you know like the back of your hand. If it doesn't, well, we'll say it's also the magical exhaustion then. Or just a nasty concussion.


End file.
